


Dress Code

by emmaliza



Category: Take That (Band)
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Crossdressing, Feminization, Hand Jobs, Insecurity, M/M, Oral Sex, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Porn with Feelings, Spanking, progress era
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-11
Updated: 2019-04-11
Packaged: 2020-01-11 17:45:03
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,190
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18428993
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/emmaliza/pseuds/emmaliza
Summary: When you all get back together after so many years, knowing you have to be honest and talk about your feelings if you don't want everything to go all wrong again, and that leaves room for someone to come out with:hey, do you lot mind if I wear a dress tomorrow? Like, all day?





	Dress Code

_I'm going to break a fucking ankle._

Howard grabs the railing for support as he inches down the stairs, shaking on his heels. It's not the first time he's ever worn them, of course not, but it has been awhile. In public, anyway. When you all get back together after so many years, knowing you have to be honest and talk about your feelings if you don't want everything to go all wrong again, and that leaves room for someone to come out with: _hey, do you lot mind if I wear a dress tomorrow? Like, all day?_

He stumbles into the kitchen of Robbie's house in LA, and everyone looks up to greet him. Howard blushes, and adjusts the platinum blonde wig upon his head. That's more attention than he's used to. Didn't really think this through, did he?

Their eyes are boring into him as he inches down the stairs. His heels aren't actually that high - two and a half inches at most - but combined with the frock and the wig, it's all a but much, he finds himself breathing hard. That's probably not from exertion, honestly.

"Morning How," Jason tells him as he sits down at the kitchen table. He looks completely unfazed by Howard's dress, and quickly goes back to his muesli. Mark is too wrapped up in something in the paper to even notice. Robbie and Gary, meanwhile, do give him looks, but they don't look disgusted, or bemused, or even like they're trying to hold back laughter like Howard was irrationally afraid of. They look... appreciative.

"You look great," Rob leans over to whisper in his ear. "Better than half the girls I've shagged, and that's no small number."

Howard laughs, kicking him with the toe of his heel under the table. He's still a bit embarrassed, but it's not going so bad. So far.

* * *

He's stretched out across the couch, looking over a page of lyrics Gary and Robbie were working on last night - he's never been one of their primary songwriters, but he has always been the best at harmonies, and perhaps you can reverse engineer a melody from the harmonies, he's not sure. Of course, the other reason he's stretched out on the couch is to give his fucking feet a break.

It might make sense to take his bloody heels off then, but whenever he looks down and sees them, he can't bring himself to. They're strappy black leather, shiny and patent, and maybe his feet are a little bit big for this but he can't help but be struck by how glamorous they look, encased in such pretty packaging.

He didn't have to buy the clothes himself, Rob was nice enough to send off an assistant to do it, even though the chances of anyone in LA recognising _him_  were pretty miniscule. Hell, even back in Britain, chances are he could have foisted it onto Jay. He probably wouldn't have complained.

Still, he reckons he prefers it this way. He only does this in private, among the people he feels comfortable with - well. okay, he also does it on stage sometimes, but this is different. Somehow.

It's Mark who catches him alone in the lounge, clearly a little worn out from working out their latest hit with Gaz. He approaches from behind and his soft hands find Howard's shoulders, massaging there gently. "You right, Doug?"

Howard groans and leans into the touch, letting Mark soothe the muscles that are more strained than they have any right to be, probably just thanks to stress. He'd ask Mark to run his fingers through his hair, but that's still concealed under the blonde wig.

With that flag of permission, Mark crawls onto the couch with him. "I forgot to tell you earlier," he says, his blue eyes shining, "you look _amazing_. I like it a lot."

Howard laughs, even as the blood rushes to his cheeks. They keep telling him that, but it's tricky to believe. His dress is a small black Gucci-esque number that would make Posh Spice herself proud, the neckline as high as possible - someone, probably Gary, pointed out it might raise suspicion if he shaved the chest hair he's has for about a decade now. He didn't shave the beard either, despite the smoky black eyeliner and red lipstick buried among it. He did get away with shaving his legs though, any nicks from the unfamiliar touch of the razor hidden behind black, silky, thigh-high stockings.

"That so?" From how diluted Mark's pupils are, he reckons he knows what Mark wants from him - he knows what he wants from _them._  It's just a question of who's brave enough to ask for it first. Both he and Mark can be pretty insecure sometimes, but somebody's got to man up sometime, don't they?

A soft hand lands upon his thigh and he shudders, the paper floating away by his side. "Well," he says, only a little out of breath, "get on with it, then."

Mark is crawling into his lap and pulling him into a kiss, gentle, tender and loving, as if he would have expected anything else. Howard sighs contentedly into Mark's mouth - he didn't say it, not at first, but he wanted this, yeah, to be the pretty girl, the one they can make love to all day long.

Fuck.

Within seconds Mark is reaching through the fabric of his dress, tugging and tweaking at his nipple - he didn't bother with a bra, after all. "You're so pretty," Mark cooes, lips finding the crook of Howard's neck as he squeezes the silver piercing. "Pretty girl, all for us." Howard shudders, and his cock stiffens at the sound of those words, the tip of it brushing against Mark's as he rubs against Howard's belly. They're both much too eager for it, there's no denying that.

Mark's other hand reaches underneath his skirt, finding the garterbelt keeping his stockings up. He lets out a light giggle against Howard's skin. Howard wonders why, until: "how many tries did that take you, How?"

He giggles a bit himself then. He's not sure why. "You really wanna know, mate?" In truth it took way too fucking long and almost broke his fingernails, which isn't really sexy, is it?

Mark doesn't answer, but apparently he can't be bothered undoing them - which is good, because Howard can't be bothered _re_ -doing them - so instead he moves up further, pushing Howard's lacy black knickers (he picked a theme, what can he say) out of the way.

"Surprised you bothered with these," he murmurs.

Howard gasps as Mark's fingers start tracing along his hole, making him shiver and rock his body upwards for more. It takes a good few seconds for him to manage a response. "You calling me a slag?"

Mark pulls back, his baby blue eyes as big and innocent as ever. "What?" he asks, his fingers still _so_  close to pushing inside. "No, no, of course not, I would never--"

He has to laugh, reaching round to squeeze Mark's hip reassuringly. "Relax, mate, I was only kidding," he says. Mark gives him a skeptical look. "Hey, this slag _wants_  your fingers inside him." Mark's eyes sparkle.

The lube is god knows where, presumably in one of the bedrooms, and so Mark has to spit on his fingers to even get anything inside him. Howard gasps, and whimpers as he feels his hole stretched open, but as two spit split digits sink into his arse he thinks _yes, fuck, yes; this is what I wanted._

* * *

He ends up staggering a bit off the couch, a pretty blatant white stain spread across his belly that they couldn't quite remove. Mark apologised half a dozen times for ruining his dress, but Howard just laughed it off. It's not like he was expecting anyone other than them to see it.

Mark's disappeared to return to writing somewhere, and Howard's just about thinking he ought to do some work himself when he stumbles upon Robbie in the corridor, who grins at the sight of him.

With his usual lack of subtlety, Rob nods toward the white patch on his frock. "You've been enjoying yourself, then?"

They both burst out laughing, and with a certain sense of _what the hell_ , Howard opts to answer by pinning Rob up against the wall.

Rob does seem surprised, but not unwelcoming of the advance. The heels, wobbly as they are, give him a couple of inches on Rob and he leans in - he's hardly intimidating, dressed up like this, but still. "You're one to talk," he chuckles. "I bet the famous Robbie Williams has been in a few situations more embarrassing than this."

Of all of them, he was most reluctant to have Rob back, but staring into his cheeky green eyes it's hard to remember why. It's like he never left. Rob's tattooed fingers find his hip and squeeze through the fabric. "I've been with my fair share of girls like you, if that's what you mean."

"Oh really?" And without another word, he's sinking down onto his knees. He bites his lip nervously. It's a bit silly, and the others will probably laugh if they catch them, but well... he wants to do this. He wants to be _that_  sort of girl. He's getting off on it.

Rob looks dumbstruck, but for once decides to shut up and not ruin a good thing when it comes to him, his jaw snapping shut as Howard hastily undoes his fly. His cock springs out readily and Howard grins at the sight. _That's a good boy._

He's too old for his own cock to get fully hard again yet - he's still spent from Mark fingerfucking him until he came all over his own belly - but as he wraps his red-stained lips around Robbie's cock, smearing lipstick along the length, a thrill shoots up his spine.

* * *

When he's finished he's even more unsteady, half-hard and hot under the collar, and as he often does when he feels a bit out of his head, he goes looking for Gaz.

Gary is at his piano, working on a new melody. Howard doesn't want to interrupt just yet, so he creeps up as subtly as he can in these heels – not very, it turns out – and lays his hands on Gary's shoulders. Gaz jumps, but when he looks up, he grins. “Ah, there you are,” he says. “I was just about getting to the point I wanted to figure out the harmonies, I was wondering where you are.” He looks up and down Howard's body with a smirk. “We're not here _just_ have to have fun, you know.”

“I can work and have fun,” Howard says with a laugh, although he tries to wipe away some of the smudged lipstick from his chin. Then he squeezes Gary's shoulder again. “Well go on Gaz, show us what you've got.”

With a chuckle, Gary returns to his piano, playing out that melody from the top. Howard listens along, tapping a rhythm with his foot. He starts humming a harmony, softly, under his breath. He's not quite willing to commit to it yet.

Halfway through, he gets thrown off when Gaz stops dead with a sigh. He frowns. “Gaz?” He thought that melody was pretty, he was enjoying it. “Something wrong?”

When Gary looks at him again, he's smirking. “Now how am I meant to concentrate with you looking like that?”

Howard pauses. Stupidly, he looks away and starts to blush. He knows it's silly, but he was worried Gaz wouldn't like this – Gary's always had a thing for his muscles. _A Greek god,_ Gaz has embarrassed him by calling him many times. Gaz seems to like him butch, so Howard wasn't sure he'd be into the frocks and makeup. Apparently, he was worried for nothing. That's a relief.

Gary is silent for another moment. Then: “Come here.”

Howard doesn't get much of a say in the matter though, Gary simply drags him into his lap. There's a grunt as he lands across Gaz's thighs, but he's held tight around his waist to keep him steady. Howard laughs at the shock, but as soon as he's got his bearings he leans in for the kiss, seeing no point in beating around the bush.

He's met eagerly, Gary's mouth dropping open and letting Howard cup his jaw to bring him closer. He's going to get lipstick on Gary's face, but he can't bring himself to care. Gaz could do with being messed up every once in awhile. In these heels he's even taller than Gary than he is usually, but Gary's strong, square fingers pushing against the fabric of his dress reminds him who is the girl here. Gaz's teeth nip his bottom lip as he starts pulling Howard closer, taking a bit more control, and oh, he's into it. Fuck is he into it.

Gary's hand finds Howard's cock, now achingly hard, gropes him through his skirt. Howard moans and bucks into the touch. “Fuck, you're ready for it,” Gaz mutters against his lips. “Let me guess, the others weren't so patient? They've already had their go with you?”

Howard isn't sure whether to laugh or blush. “Most of 'em.” Now it's mentioned, he's not seen Jay in awhile, doesn't know where he's gotten to, but he can hardly think about it right now. “Jealous?”

Gary squeezes his hip. “'Course,” he says. “I want you most Dougie, everybody knows that.” Howard isn't actually certain that's true, but for the moment, he's willing to believe it. “Up.”

_Bloody hell, he's in a bossy mood,_ but Howard lets himself be guided up and onto the piano, bent over while Gary pulls his dress up above his waist. Fuck, that's hot. Those fingers start pulling away his lacy black knickers, feeling them already soaked through. “Who made you come?” Gaz whispers in his ear.

Howard groans, on the edge of losing it. “Mark,” he says. He wiggles his arse a bit. “You wanna outdo him?” Gaz has always been competitive, after all.

He gasps when Gary spanks him, firmly, on the arse. _Shit._ “Now you're just being a tease,” he says, laughter in his voice, and Howard feels him move in closer, his own erection pressed against Howard's thigh. He snorts.

“You can talk,” he says, and Gary laughs good-naturedly, reaching round to grab his prick through his panties.

“Fair enough,” he says just before he starts to wank Howard off through the lace, making him gasp and tremble on his spindly heels. With his other hand, he spanks him again. “Don't think you're quite of the hook though. Bad girl.”

And that's how they do it, Gary stroking his cock and slapping his arse in time, grinding against him from behind, until he comes in his own trousers and Howard follows him not soon after, his knickers now a proper mess. Once they're done, they both burst into giggles, because they always have a good time, him and Gaz.

* * *

He may have exhausted himself, honestly, and when he heads upstairs and ducks into Rob's guest room to discard his panties (he doesn't have a spare pair, but it's not like he thinks going commando is going to shock anyone at this point), he wonders if it's worth just taking a nap. There's not actually a lot of work being done today, it turns out, and so he doesn't think the others would mind.

But then when he actually opens the door, there is Jay, lying on his bed and reading a book. Huh.

Howard's a bit surprised, but he takes it in stride. “There you are,” he says. “I was wondering where you'd buggered off to.”

Jay closes his book, smiling as he hops off the bed. “Well, I was feeling a bit tired, so I thought I'd take a nap. But then I couldn't, so I read instead.” Howard gives a fond laugh at Jay's insomnia, while Jason slowly crosses the room toward him. “I would have joined you all back downstairs, but well, you seemed to be having a good time. Didn't want to interrupt.”

And Howard suddenly remembers his dress is still stained with come, his knickers underneath wet and sticky, his wig mussed and askew. There's no good reason to get shy now; Jason's shagged him a thousand times over the years and never made him feel bad for anything, but well, Howard's not going to pretend any of this has much logic to it.

While he gazes at the floor, Jay comes up to him, readjusting his wig confidently. “Hey, you're alright, aren't you?” he asks in that gentle voice of his. When Howard meets his eye, he smiles kindly. “They haven't been taking advantage of you, have they?

Howard has to laugh. “Mate, weren't you paying attention? Taking advantage of me is exactly what I wanted.”

“Mm, true.” He smiles, but Jay has that concerned look in his eye, one Howard's not quite sure how to feel about. “I just hope you're feeling alright, that's all.”

“What? Yeah, yeah I'm–”

But he's interrupted by Jason kissing him, stealing the air from his lungs. He's gentler than Gary was, but no less forceful. Howard groans as Jay's tongue pushes his lips apart, one hand clasping the back of his neck, the other inching across his belly and down toward his prick. Howard feels the blood start rushing down again. It is much too soon for that to be happening, but well, Jay's always had an effect on him, one even the others, as much as he fancies them, can't quite match. Not that he'd tell 'em that.

He's taller than Jay in these heels, but all that does is make it harder to grab him for support when his knees start knocking together. His skirt is pushed up around his waist so Jason can pull his panties off – that's what he came here for, after all – and he kicks them aside eagerly. Jay finally breaks the kiss, burying his face against Howard's neck with a shudder. “I've wanted you all day, you know.”

Howard takes a breath. It's not a massive shock, but he does like hearing Jay tell him that, for whatever reason. He laughs. “I mean, you could have come in a bit earlier,” he says, shifting his hips closer to Jason's. “I wasn't exactly knocking anyone back.”

“No, but I wanted to go last,” Jason whispers in his ear, stubble scratching his skin and making him shiver. “I wanted to take my time with you.”

Then he's being pushed backwards, onto the bed with a grunt. He lies back obligingly, curious as to what Jay is up to. He's definitely half-hard now, and Jay's eyes sparkle when he sees that. “You're so pretty like this, Dougie,” he says as he swings his knees over Howard's waist, straddling him. He takes ahold of Howard's prick, stroking it lightly. “So wet and ready. Such a pretty girl you make.”

Howard throws his head back and moans. The wig hangs on by the skin of its teeth.

He doesn't exactly make it difficult, spreading his legs wide and bucking up toward any touch, but given what he's been up to all day, it's not like there'd be any point in pretending. He bites his lip as Jason starts to kiss his way down his torso,seemingly not bothered by the stain upon his dress. He crosses the edge and starts kissing along Howard's thighs instead, nipping the skin with his teeth, seemingly unbothered by the stumps of dark hairs there.

“I want to taste you,” Jason declares. “I want to taste your sweet little cunt.”

“Fuck!” Howard cries out as Jason swallows him whole without warning, clutching at his hair in need. It's silly, but it gets him off, Jay talking about his cunt – you know, like he has one. Jason lets out a moan as Howard thrusts helplessly into his mouth, and he squeezes Howard's thigh, urging him on.

He's definitely hard now, and could maybe come just from Jay bobbing his head like that, but then he pulls back. Howard whines and considers kicking him, if these heels weren't quite so sharp, but then Jason is moving, kissing his cock all over and spreading him apart, lips buried against his arse and... ah...

Howard groans and spreads his legs wider for it. He shouldn't be surprised, not really. _He wants to eat me out,_ he thinks, and his cock throbs. He hasn't been told he can't touch himself, and so he reaches down to stroke his length, a tiny bit of precome splashing into Jason's hair. Maybe he should feel guilty, but Jay doesn't seem to mind.

Jay's tongue curls inside him expertly, makes him gasp and arch his back off the bed like a proper slag. He's clearly practiced, but that doesn't matter – they're all too old for jealousy; they've all shagged everyone in the band and a lot of people outside it, but what's important is they all come back together in the end, and they all _come_ together as well. Howard wouldn't have felt comfortable dressing up like this with anyone else he's ever fucked.

He wraps his legs around Jason's neck and whines so loudly and embarrassingly, he's sure the others all just heard and will take the piss out of him for it as soon as he heads downstairs. “Jay, please!” he cries out.

Then Jason disappears, and he collapses against the bed. The wig falls off, but he hardly cares.

He's being kissed again, and gives a tired moan, wrapping his arms around Jason's shoulders. “Pretty girl,” Jay whispers as Howard hears him slick himself up with lube he must have been hiding somewhere. Howard knows he doesn't look a thing like a girl, but he likes how Jay indulges him. “You want me now?”

Howard groans, nods, tightens his arms around Jason's shoulders. Of all of them, Jay's always been the one to worry the most about what _he_ wants. “Fuck, yeah,” he gasps, not ladylike at all.

Jason kisses him again before pushing inside. Howard groans as he feels the head of Jay's cock splitting him open. He's not really stretched properly, not since what Mark did earlier, although Jay did lube himself up carefully. It stings a bit. But he doesn't mind. Something about the pain makes it feel – more raw, more real, more like Jay's taking him is something special, not something they've done many times before. _Like a virgin, touched for the very first time,_ as Madonna said, and then he laughs.

“Hell are you laughing at?” Jay asks in between kisses as he bottoms out, and Howard doesn't bother answering, he just groans as he feels Jason fill him up nicely. He doesn't need to do anything, turns out, just needs to lie back and let Jason fuck into him thoroughly, siding against his prostate like an expert and having him keening for it, as eager as any groupie, eyes shut and lost in bliss, forgetting anything but this, the sensation of being all dolled up in his pretty dress and having Jason Orange take him like he's the most beautiful woman in the world.

He couldn't tell you how long it lasts, he loses track easily, he only comes back to his body when Jay thrusts all the way in and it pushes him over the edge, his spunk flying up in an arch and splattering over his dress again, staining it further. _Posh Spice would be ashamed._ Jay doesn't take much more after that, spending deep in Howard's hole – _lucky he can't get me pregnant,_ Howard thinks, and he shivers. He hopes _that's_ not going to turn out to be one of his kinks as well.

They're both panting and grinning and giggling at each other once they're finished, and Jason insists on kissing him again. Howard didn't know he was this good a kisser, but he'll take the compliment.

He's not thinking straight for awhile, and so it takes that long until he remembers the wig. When they break apart he turns his head to the side, and learns it got knocked onto the floor, somehow. “I should pick that up, should I?” he looks back toward Jay to ask. “Before it gets dirty?”

“Probably.” Jason sounds bemused by his uncertainty. “Is there a reason you sound so reluctant?”

Howard shrugs. He's not sure, really, just – maybe now he's not coming on the end of Jason's cock, now he's had his fair share of orgasms he can possibly wring out of this, the doubts a creeping back in. “Is there really a point?” he asks. “It's not exactly convincing, is it?”

After a curious look, Jason snorts, and stretches his lithe, elegant body off the bed. He picks the wig back up, and plonks it unceremoniously on Howard's head.

“You want the wig, you wear the wig, Howard,” he says. He smiles. “It suits you.”

Howard hesitates a moment, but then, he breaks into a grin.

Well. If Jay says so.

 


End file.
